


the salt off your lips

by flimsy



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dominance, Hand Jobs, Hungover Sex, M/M, Mile High Club, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsy/pseuds/flimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy dozes off again and when he wakes, another twenty minutes have passed and his pants have somehow managed to sneak their way nearly completely off his hips. He grunts and sits up a little, back tight and hurting, and for a moment he’s falling off the chair and can’t be bothered to think about how he’s close to showing his junk to his boss and the entire band. </p><p> </p><p>In short: Sex on a plane!</p>
            </blockquote>





	the salt off your lips

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](http://i40.tinypic.com/2vvtamt.png).

Tommy is a mess; the night finds him drunk and maybe a little high, his eyeliner smeared over the slope of his brow when he squints at himself in the rusty, half-blind mirror of the bar’s dirty restroom. He’s got glitter stuck to his tongue and a fucking pair of panties hanging from the back pocket of his worn jeans. He reaches up and rubs his fringe between the pads of his fingers to get some shape back into it - _useless_ \- and gives the half naked girl behind him a small smirk via the dusted glass of the mirror. 

“Panties?” he says and wiggles his ass a little and she snorts and shakes her head. 

“Keep them.” She squeezes into her jeans and then pushes past him towards the door. Her fringe is dark and her eyes are bright and Tommy can’t for his mother’s life remember her name. He’s also pretty certain that she didn’t get off. 

He winks at her and she rolls her eyes and lets the door swing shut. Tommy stares after her for a moment, wonders drunkenly if he should’ve asked for her number, but then his phone goes off in his pocket, buzzing and bleeping, and Tommy fumbles for it, wondering who the fuck would be calling him at this hour. 

Blurrily, he recognizes his alarm clock on the screen and then a moment later curses. Airport in two hours.

*

He makes it back to the hotel still drunk and takes a shower still drunk, barely managing to wash off all the waterproof makeup that he sludged onto his face too long ago. When he’s done dressing and packing, his hair is sticking up and the circles under his eyes are so dark he might as well have left the eyeshadow on. 

There’s no time to think so Tommy hides his face behind his glasses and pops an Advil and on second thought an aspirin, which he regrets the moment he swallows because, shit, you’re not supposed to mix meds, but goddamn, he’s still drunk and can barely even stand, and how is he supposed to think. 

He falls asleep in the car to the airport and Isaac has to shake him and stick a wet finger in his ear before Tommy finally jerks awake fully, feeling possibly worse than he did one and a half hours ago in some shitty, dirty bathroom getting off with a girl whose name he didn’t even ask for. 

Tommy curls his hand around the handle of his trolley because it’s something to hold onto and follows Isaac and Ashley through the crowd of fans holding out pictures and cameras and squeezes his eyes shut against the light, head stinging with the sudden influx of reality. His brain is on autopilot apparently because somehow he manages to navigate his way through it, leaving signed photographs and awkward waves in his wake, and then they’re finally past check-in and in the boarding area, the sudden quiet closing around him like a rush of water. 

He drops his trolley and carefully sets his guitar case against the row of chairs.

“Are you okay?” Ashley asks tilting her head at him; her eyes are dark and wet and Tommy blinks at her through his glasses not quite certain suddenly that he’ll actually be sobering up any time soon. 

“I think I’ll be sick,” he says instead of what he meant to say.

“Seriously?” Ashley reaches out and then looks around helplessly and Tommy follows her gaze. Kevin’s is dealing with some airport staff, Adam’s on the phone, dark fringe in his eyes, no makeup, and Isaac is not in the vicinity; Tommy shakes his head and slumps down in one of the plastic chairs. 

“Did you sleep at all?” Ashley cants her head more until it’s resting on her shoulder. 

Tommy shakes his head and rubs his eyes. “Not really, no.” 

She squats down then, elbows on her thighs and squints up at him. “Coffee or water?”

“Coffee,” Tommy says automatically, and then shakes his head. “No. Water.” 

“Alright.” 

Tommy drops his head back, closing his eyes and allowing the room to spin around him until Ashley’s back with bottled water and a thin Delta Air Lines pillow. 

“What’s wrong?” Isaac sits next to him and Tommy props the pillow on one of the chairs, pushes the handrests up and lies down after taking a sip of water. 

“Hangover,” Ashley explains and then Isaac says something which doesn’t quite register with Tommy anymore because he’s falling asleep again. 

He wakes panicked, heart beating fast to accommodate his body’s need to process all the toxins; for a stupid moment he’s scared they just left him there but when he opens his eyes the great clock above the gate reads three hours later and Ashley is curled up on the row of chairs opposite to Tommy, Isaac’s thick leather jacket draped over her scrawny shoulders. Kevin’s sitting at Tommy’s feet, legs crossed, watching something on his phone.

Tommy wiggles his toes in his boots and stretches, carefully turning his body into a sitting position. He tugs at Kevin’s earphones and gets a grunt and a glare. 

“What?” 

“What happened to the flight?” Tommy croaks, head pounding a little, but definitely more sober now. There’s a kink in his right shoulder that he’s sure must’ve come from sleeping on plastic. 

“They had a security thing in New York,” Kevin says and shrugs. “We’re stuck until they get their heads out of their asses over there.” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Tommy groans and rolls his shoulders. He stutters to his feet, unsteady, and tugs at his jeans. He has to piss so he shrugs off his jacket and finds the bathroom to relieve himself. 

On the way back to the waiting hall, there’s a snack machine so he digs for change in his pockets and buys himself a cold bottle of water and a Snickers; turning, chocolate bar between his lips, he runs into Adam. 

“Yo,” Adam says with a grin. “How’s your head?” His gaze dips down for a moment, lingering on his hips long enough for Tommy to notice. 

He bites off the head of his candy and, chewing, nods. “Yeah. Kinda better.”

“I gotta get somebody to babysit you.” Adam rolls his eyes and jams his credit card in the machine and gets a cappuccino. Even slouching to reach for his drink he kind of towers over Tommy.

“Don’t go ruining my game, Lambert,” he says with a grin and finishes the Snickers. They head back to the seating area and Tommy flops down and Adam sits next to Ashley’s drawn up legs. He fumbles for his phone, brows furrowing, and Tommy sinks down into his chair, feet planted on the floor for balance, and decides to do the same. 

He’s got an email from his mom asking how he is, a text from Lisa and somebody tweeted a picture of him and a brunette heading through a club, Tommy’s hand on her ass, on Twitter. Fuck, he thinks, and sighs. Her ass looks pretty fucking amazing, though. At least he wasn’t that drunk. 

He stuffs his phone into his pocket again, pushing his pants down a little in the process, but decides that he’s too lazy to sit up and make himself decent again. It’s not like there’s anyone except the band close by because security is making sure of that and Ashley’s asleep too. Plus, Tommy strongly suspects that she has little to no interest in his dick however awesome it may be.

He dozes off again and when he wakes, another twenty minutes have passed and his pants have somehow managed to sneak their way nearly completely off his hips. He grunts and sits up a little, back tight and hurting, and for a moment he’s falling off the chair and can’t be bothered to think about how he’s close to showing his junk to his boss and the entire band. 

Once he’s managed to catch himself, he tugs at his belt, pulling his pants up, wincing, and looks up to see if anyone noticed - and finds Adam blatantly staring, phone forgotten in his hands. 

Tommy blinks and realizes that Adam didn’t know he was awake just until the moment that Tommy readjusted his fugitive jeans and looked up, and it makes him smirk despite himself. He pushes his glasses up and gives Adam a look. 

“What?” he says and sticks his tongue out at him. 

“Don’t go flashing us,” Adam says dryly, but there’s a tilt to his brow that reminds Tommy of San Antonio and too much whiskey and Adam’s mouth on his throat. Then Adam waves his phone and Tommy snaps out of it. “Nice catch, though. Classy.” 

Tommy feels his brows shoot up and then remembers that yesterday’s little tryst is on the internet for anyone to see. “Well, one of us has got to get laid regularly. And since you’re not doing any laying.” 

“Oh?” Adam shifts and crosses his legs. 

Tommy stretches his arms over his head, allowing his T-shirt to ride up over the smooth expanse of his abdomen. “We don’t want rumors of abstinence on tour spreading.” He rolls onto his feet, grins at Adam who’s scowling so hard that Tommy thinks his face is going to fall off. 

“Come on, dude,” he says and nudges Adam’s shin with his toe. “It’s a joke.”

“Very fucking funny,” Adam grunts and gets up, thumbing something into his phone. “Gotta take this call,” he continues although it’s so obvious he _made_ the call, and Tommy rolls his eyes - Adam shouldn’t be such a queen just because he’s not getting laid and Tommy is. 

He buys a coffee with his last quarters and when he’s done drinking it, there’s a crackling voice over the speakers informing them that boarding will begin in fifteen minutes. He wakes Ashley and returns Isaac’s jacket and carries her bass because he’s a gentleman at heart and Ashley was so nice before and now she’s all sleepy and looks approximately twelve. 

They’re on the plane not much later and Tommy is so glad that he’s a rockstar now, too, and that they all fly business because Adam said he’d rather have them around instead of crammed somewhere into economy. The seats are wide and Tommy’s guitar has enough space and he curls up in his seat, reading the news on his phone until they take off. 

When he’s done there’s some seat shuffling since Isaac really needs to talk to Kevin and then Adam drops down next to Tommy, long limbs and soap and hairspray. 

“You sure you can handle me?” Tommy quips and leans back in his chair, inhaling against the pull of gravity. Centrifugal force. Whatever. 

Adam gives him a once over without actually turning his head and his lips curl into a smile. “I’ll try my luck, I guess.” 

Tommy stares and licks his lips because Adam is so blatantly flirting with him it _can’t_ be anything but that. He’s not sure what to think of that and also isn’t sure he can trust himself running on two hours of sleep and too much booze. 

“You know,” Adam says, “I like the infamous bathroom fuck as much as the next guy, but it’s kind of getting a repeating theme for you, Tommy Joe.”

It is, actually. Tommy can’t really deny that. Four dirty bathrooms and four brunettes in eleven cities. Tommy would’ve called it being on a roll rather than a theme. He says so and Adam laughs. 

“No need for anything more sophisticated then?” There’s sarcasm in his voice, a deep rumble in his joking tone, but also something else that resonates in Tommy’s insides and causes a flutter of adrenaline. 

“Well, the logistics _are_ sophisticated, Adam, but easily taught.” His mouth curves into a smile and before he can stop himself it’s turned into something else entirely and he realizes that he’s full on offering Adam Lambert an introduction to advanced bathroom sex logistics. Fuck. He’s so not sober or awake enough to be having this conversation. 

Adam turns towards him then and gives him a look, head cocked. “I’ll take your word for it.” There’s a lot of freckles on his lips and over his nose because they just played outdoor L.A. and the sun was merciless and Adam’s makeup was everywhere except for his face. Tommy pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and tries not to be disappointed to be blown off like that.

Adam’s his boss and Tommy knows that Adam might hook up once with three-beer-queer guys but that already happened so they’re done with that. 

“Hey,” Adam says and fishes for his iPod. “Listen to this. It’s sick.” He twirls his headphones at Tommy and Tommy grabs them, pushing the left one into his ears while Adam takes the right. It’s two girls singing an acapella version of a Rihanna song. Tommy wouldn’t exactly call it _sick_ because Manson is sick, but this is _good_. 

“They got harmony,” he says and closes his eyes for a second. 

“Yeah,” Adam agrees. “I should do something like this. On the next album.”

Tommy snorts because Adam’s current album is barely three months old and he’s already thinking about things he wants to do next. Adam can’t sit still and can’t stand still; he’s always on the move, pushing, while Tommy likes to just flow along. 

“Let’s get this tour done first,” he says, humming along with the song anyway. 

“I’m the boss here.” Adam smirks at him and then skips to the next song, a cover of Whataya Want From Me, saying, “This is my favorite by them.” There’s a little irony in that so Tommy grabs onto it. 

“Typical.” Tommy snorts. “We’re not on promo anymore, you know?”

“Hey,” Adam says and leans over to yank the bud from Tommy’s ear, hand on his thigh, fingers warm. “You’re on thin ice.” Tommy thinks it’s an undeliberate gesture but when Adam’s hand lingers for a moment and then slides up over his thigh before withdrawing he figures that, yeah, no, Adam is still game. 

Tommy purses his lips and then pushes to his feet, stuffing his jacket and his pillow into his seat. “Gotta take a piss,” he says, not sure if he actually is trying to get away, and steps over Adam’s feet to start towards the lavatory; it’s in use and he waits for a moment before a sour-looking businessman steps out, and then squeezes inside. He takes a piss and then washes his hands, checking his face in the mirror. He looks no better than this morning and for a frighteningly long moment he wonders what Adam actually sees, but then shakes the thought off, almost laughing at himself. 

There’s a knock on the door and Tommy curses, wondering how long he really took, and unlocks the door to step outside. “Sorry,” he starts, “I’m done-” 

But there’s no stewardess waiting and no wibbling impatient girl; it’s Adam who pushes him back inside the lavatory before he can say any more and locks the door behind them. Tommy’s calves hit the seat of the toilet and he has to steady himself against the wall because Adam is so tall and suddenly the room is far too crowded and the air feels like it’s not enough. 

“What-?” he squeaks and his voice is all high and wrong and Adam reaches out quickly and covers his mouth. 

“Be quiet,” he whispers. “The walls are fucking thin.” 

Tommy wants to say something more about how he knows that and _what is this even_ but Adam leans in and replaces his hand with his mouth, pressing his body flush against Tommy’s, hand on the small of his back to keep him from falling over. 

Adam licks into his mouth and it’s familiar and new and hot and odd, all at the same time because the last time they kissed and Tommy wasn’t drunk enough to think Adam had boobs was on stage in front of a crowd. He opens up anyway and Adam’s other hand finds his neck, pulling until Tommy doesn’t really have another choice anyway because there’s no space to retreat to. All the space is filled up with Adam. He winds his arm around Adam’s neck and holds on, gives in to the kiss because it feels amazing and he hasn’t _been_ kissed lately and sometimes it’s just exactly what he needs instead of doing all the work himself. Tommy is an opportunist and this is not an opportunity he wants to pass up

He pushes his tongue against Adam’s and moans into the kiss; Adam’s fingers dig into his back and neck and the sharp bite of his nails is just right, so Tommy rolls his hips up a little, surprised that his dick is twitching and sending shivers up his spine despite no sleep and too much alcohol. Adam slides his hand a little lower and squeezes Tommy’s ass and yeah, definitely no problem in the getting it up department.

“Ah,” he says and pulls away, lips parted, and then tiptoes again to bite down on Adam’s lower lip. 

Fingers dig into his hair and pull him back until his neck is bared and open and Adam slides his lips and teeth down over Tommy’s cheek and chin and sinks his teeth into the crook of his throat until Tommy is gasping and bucking up because it feels so fucking good. 

“Be still,” Adam hisses and gives his ass another tight squeeze and Tommy freezes instantly, breathing hard, steadying himself against the wall with one hand, the other still wrapped around Adam’s neck. 

“Wanna come?” Adam mouths against his skin and it sounds so dirty, so, so dirty, even though it’s just two words, but Adam’s voice is low and feels like velvet against Tommy’s skin. Adam doesn’t wait for an answer and lets go of Tommy’s hair to fumble Tommy’s fly open and push his hand inside, thumbing the head of his cock. He’s fully hard in approximately three seconds, rotating his hips, biting his lip hard to keep quiet. 

It nearly upsets their balance and Adam curses. “You gotta hold still. You’re heavier than you look.”

It’s only then that Tommy realizes that Adam’s basically holding him up with his grip on his ass and that he’d be falling over if his hand wasn’t there and that, yeah, he _has_ to hold still if he doesn’t want this to turn into an extremely awkward situation. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he whispers. “But can you please just touch my fucking dick again, Adam.” 

Adam grins and kisses him lightly and Tommy squeezes his eyes shut because Adam circles his cock in the ring of his fingers, pulling up and pushing down fast and hard, almost painful, but not quite. 

Tommy whimpers and grits his teeth, the urge to move a steady throb inside of him. “Oh, f-” He grunts and lets his head fall back; Adam’s mostly hard cock presses into his hip and then Adam’s teeth are on his throat again, scraping, then biting down hard, sending tiny electric sparks all through his nervous system, and Tommy’s eyes roll back in his skull. 

“Adam-” he squeezes out and then comes all over Adam’s hands and his briefs, way too fast to be anything but utterly embarrassing. 

“Wow,” Adam says and kisses up his neck, then bites his earlobe which sends another shiver through him. His knees buckle and Adam catches him, laughing against his ear. 

“Shut it.” Tommy tries to get away but then remembers that there’s no room to maneuver. 

“If I’d known you liked biting so much, I would’ve-” 

Tommy doesn’t want to know what Adam would have done because he doesn’t really want to think about this; he turns his head and presses their lips together in a very lopsided half-kiss because Adam is too tall and Tommy can’t quite reach up. 

He fights free of Adam grip, precariously balances against the wall and cleans himself up quickly with a handful of toilet paper, embarrassed under Adam’s scrutinizing stare. 

Adam’s dick, half-hard and visibly outlined beneath his pants, is still there and god, Tommy should really do something about this. 

“Suck me,” Adam says, voice a little hoarse now, and Tommy looks up, coloring because he’s been staring at Adam’s crotch for too long. Adam lets go of his ass and Tommy wiggles around until they’ve navigated by ninety degrees, their shoulders against the door, Tommy’s back against the mirror. 

Tommy is about to drop when Adam grabs his neck again and kisses him hard and fast and possessive, all teeth and tongue, biting until Tommy is breathless again. He pushes down on Tommy’s shoulder and then he’s tumbling to his knees, eagerly reaching for Adam’s fly, Adam’s hand in his hair again, tugging and pulling, and Tommy can’t wait to get his mouth on Adam’s dick. 

He pushes his pants and underwear down and doesn’t pause for a moment to lick up a strip from root to head and then suck the tip in and stroke the base until Adam’s fully hard. 

“Oh,” Adam says as if in wonder and moves his hips a little, pushing into Tommy’s mouth. His hand urges him down a little and Tommy lets him because Adam manhandling him a little is goddamn hot. 

He sucks him in as far as he’ll go which is not very far considering Adam’s size and wraps his fist around what’s left; judging by Aam’s reaction, a groan and a half-thrust, it works for him. He sucks up and puts his lips around the tip of his cock, building up a suction, tongue pressed against the slit and Adam nearly pulls his hair out. 

“Don’t tease-” Adam hisses and nudges his hips forward again. Tommy slides down on his cock again and looks up, trying to smirk around his mouthful of dick. He repeats the motion and then again until Adam flesh is hard and slick and he can move freely, sinking deeper each time, timing his breaths carefully. 

He can feel Adam buzzing under him, his hips hot where Tommy’s hand rests, sweat starting to build under his fingers. He speeds up a little, knees straining and tries to take him deeper until his lips hit his fist with every downstroke, jaw tight, and Adam’s breathing so hard Tommy’s pretty sure it’s audible outside. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Adam grunts and Tommy looks up again, not stopping, lips wet. 

“God.” Adam’s fingers tighten in his hair and Tommy goes with it because Adam’s grip is tight and he’s starting to move Tommy’s head, pulling and pushing. Tommy keeps his fingers where they’re wrapped around Adam’s dick and squeezes his eyes shut when Adam thrusts into his hand and his mouth, grunting each time. 

It feels fantastic, dirty and taboo, and Tommy’s pretty sure if he hadn’t come only a few minutes ago he’d be painfully hard at this point. 

Suddenly, Adam pries his hand away and in a panicked moment Tommy’s eyes fly open again because Adam’s other hand is on his skull and Adam thrusts in, shallow, little pushes of his hips into Tommy’s mouth until his jaw begins to ache. 

“That okay?” Adam grunts, eyes glazed over, lips parted and cheeks red, and Tommy wants to say, _you’re about to skullfuck me in a plane lavatory when this is the first time I’m sucking your dick, no_ , but he nods because the thought alone is enough to send a shiver through him. 

Adam’s been waiting for that apparently because his thrusts go deeper and he tilts Tommy’s head back, and Tommy presses his eyes shut, trying to time his breathing with the paced jolts of Adam’s hips. It works mostly, but it’s still uncomfortable and messy and Adam’s dick is a heavy, huge weight on his tongue and deeper down, too. 

“So good, Tommy-” More tugging on his hair and then Adam’s really fucking into his mouth, muscles spasming under Tommy’s fingers, and there’s spit and precome running down his lips and chin, and he can faintly hear the obscene sounds he’s making, moaning and choking when Adam gets too close to his throat. 

“I’m gonna-” Adam warns and Tommy opens his watering eyes because he wants to see this; Adam looks down and meets his gaze and pushes so far in Tommy’s pretty sure he’s going to gag on it and then his cock _twitches_ on Tommy’s tongue and he’s coming in long pulses down Tommy’s mouth and throat. 

Tommy almost doesn’t cough; Tommy almost swallows it at all but when he can’t breath anymore and Adam won’t let go he wrenches away and hits his head against the sink, seeing stars for a moment, sputtering. 

“Shit, sorry.” Adam scrambles down and tries to pull him up in the confined space and Tommy manages, unsteady on his feet. 

“You made me choke,” Tommy croaks, lips swollen and painful when he uses them to form words, a dull ache in his jaw. He touches the sore spot on his head and then rubs his chin and his cheeks because there’s saliva and come everywhere. 

“You look so fucking hot,” Adam whispers and leans down to lick his lips and then kisses him deeply. They break apart and Adam smacks his lips, grinning, hand on Tommy’s neck, thumbing his cheek. 

Tommy tucks his dick back in and zips him up because Adam is apparently too dazed to do anything but nuzzle Tommy’s neck and lips. 

“We need to get out,” Tommy mumbles, rubs his scarf over his face, and then, “Do I look- what- should I-” Do I look mouthfucked? He can’t really bring himself to say that. 

“You look like I had a good time.” Adam turns the lock and Tommy presses his lips together, shooting himself a look in the mirror when Adam steps outside. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles when he sees himself and wraps his scarf around the entire lower half of his face. Not that it helps much. The girl in the front row is staring at him as he passes by, mouth agape, and Tommy hunches his shoulders, refusing to look at anyone as he walks down the aisle, and then curls up in his seat next to Adam, turned away and staring out the window. 

“They’re too far back,” Adam says quietly and his voice does something to Tommy’s brain because suddenly there’s ants all over, little sparks. “And they’re watching a movie. I’m pretty sure they didn’t notice.”

Who, Tommy wants to ask before he stupidly realizes Adam is talking about Ashley and Isaac and Kevin and maybe even the two security guys who’re all the way back in the last business row seats. 

“Okay,” Tommy says and swallows; his throat fucking hurts, his lips feel like hell and he’s going to have the worst bruise on the back of his head. He so badly wants Adam to do it again that it almost hurts. 

“Interesting lesson, though.” Adam smiles at him and he looks a little dishevelled, too, face still heated, hair not quite perfect. “Bathroom logistics.” 

“Told you.” Tommy shifts, toeing off his shoes and pulls his feet up to sit crosslegged. He’s certain his knees are bruised as well. It hurts when he reaches out and drags the tips of his fingers over them. 

There’s a long moment of silence and then Adam’s hand is on his knee, too, thumb rubbing in circles. “Sorry about that,” he says and Tommy blinks and tilts his head a little. 

“Uhm,” Tommy makes because he doesn’t know what to say. 

“I’ll treat you to breakfast tomorrow, okay? Room service and all.” 

“What.” Tommy’s a little. Tommy doesn’t even. 

But Adam just grins at him and keeps rubbing his knee. Finally, he says, “Hotel room logistics.” 

Oh, Tommy thinks, _oh_.

***


End file.
